A GREAT GRIEF

THIS story really consists of two parts. The first part might be left out, but
it gives us a few particulars, and these are useful. We were staying in the
country at a gentleman's seat, where it happened that the master was absent
for a few days.

In the meantime, there arrived from the next town a lady; she had a pug dog
with her, and came, she said, to dispose of shares in her tan-yard. She had
her papers with her, and we advised her to put them in an envelope, and to
write thereon the address of the proprietor of the estate, "General
War-Commissary Knight," &c.

She listened to us attentively, seized the pen, paused, and begged us to repeat
the direction slowly. We complied, and she wrote; but in the midst of the

"General War-" she struck fast, sighed deeply, and said, "I am only a woman!"
Her Puggie had seated itself on the ground while she wrote, and growled; for
the dog had come with her for amusement and for the sake of its health; and
then the bare floor ought not to be offered to a visitor. His outward
appearance was characterized by a snub nose and a very fat back.

"He doesn't bite," said the lady; "he has no teeth. He is like one of the
family, faithful and grumpy; but the latter is my grandchildren's fault, for
they have teased him; they play at wedding, and want to give him the part of
the bridesmaid, and that's too much for him, poor old fellow."

And she delivered her papers, and took Puggie upon her arm. And this is the
first part of the story which might have been left out.

PUGGIE DIED!! That's the second part.

It was about a week afterwards we arrived in the town, and put up at the inn.
Our windows looked into the tan-yard, which was divided into two parts by a
partition of planks; in one half were many skins and hides, raw and tanned.
Here was all the apparatus necessary to carry on a tannery, and it belonged to
the widow. Puggie had died in the morning, and was to be buried in this part
of the yard; the grandchildren of the widow (that is, of the tanner's widow,
for Puggie had never been married) filled up the grave, and it was a beautiful
grave- it must have been quite pleasant to lie there.

The grave was bordered with pieces of flower-pots and strewn over with sand;
quite at the top they had stuck up half a beer bottle, with the neck upwards,
and that was not at all allegorical.

The children danced round the grave, and the eldest of the boys among them, a
practical youngster of seven years, made the proposition that there should be
an exhibition of Puggie's burial-place for all who lived in the lane; the
price of admission was to be a trouser button, for every boy would be sure to
have one, and each might also give one for a little girl. This proposal was
adopted by acclamation.

And all the children out of the lane- yes, even out of the little lane at the
back- flocked to the place, and each gave a button. Many were noticed to go
about on that afternoon with only one suspender; but then they had seen
Puggie's grave, and the sight was worth much more.

But in front of the tan-yard, close to the entrance, stood a little girl
clothed in rags, very pretty to look at, with curly hair, and eyes so blue and
clear that it was a pleasure to look into them. The child said not a word, nor
did she cry; but each time the little door was opened she gave a long, long
look into the yard. She had not a button- that she knew right well, and
therefore she remained standing sorrowfully outside, till all the others had
seen the grave and had gone away; then she sat down, held her little brown
hands before her eyes, and burst into tears; this girl alone had not seen
Puggie's grave. It was a grief as great to her as any grown person can
experience.

We saw this from above; and looked at from above, how many a grief of our own
and of others can make us smile! That is the story, and whoever does not
understand it may go and purchase a share in the tan-yard from the window.